Seashell

by Winston

Excerpt III

Seashell
III

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From the journal of Sunburst, March 28, 1329 YS:

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It was the distance, from everything and from everypony.

That's why I loved the Seawall so much.

There was so much freedom in that. I never had to worry what anypony would think. There weren't any social rules because there wasn't any social anything. I never had to be polite or rude to get what I wanted because those things don't exist when you're by yourself. All I ever had to do was be me, just perfectly me.

I never had to feel awkward.

I sure did today.

Our shift was over, and we'd just been relieved by the oncoming section. Everypony went to the locker room, where we took off and stored our armor. I really like only having to wear chainmail, it makes the process so much faster and less cumbersome.

It didn't take long before I was done and walking out with most of the rest of the ponies on my shift. One of the other mares walked alongside me. She was a unicorn with a cobalt blue coat and a mane streaked sky blue and white, cut on the medium-short side. Her cutie mark was three white stars. She was pretty slender and kinda shapely, and had a nice flank. Most of the guards do, though, we work out a lot... Anyway. I'm pretty sure her name was Starry Night. I'm not great with names. I could have it wrong. Come to think of it, that's another thing I liked about being out there alone, not having to remember names.

We'd spoken a few times before, just casually. We were acquainted but not very familiar. From the way she was walking close to me now, though, I started to get the idea that she wanted my attention for something, and I was right. She said there was a really nice bar she knew of just a few blocks away, with good food and even better drinks. She asked if I'd like to drop in there and try one of those drinks with her.

That didn't sound very interesting, so I told her no, I don't usually drink. That was my knee-jerk response because that is the truth, I really don't. Maybe once in a while I'll have one... I just, you know, don't drink in bars, is what I meant. It's never been a thing I've thought I'd enjoy. They're loud and always play bad music. They're smoky. They're always either so empty you feel way too visible because there's only a couple ponies in there, or so crowded it makes me uncomfortable because there's too many ponies too close.

Well, of course, I didn't explain all that on the spot, I just told her I don't drink and left it at that, and we parted ways. She seemed kind of put off, which I didn't really get at first. Then one of the other guards, a stallion, pulled a bit closer next to me, once she was out of earshot.

"You know, the drinking itself wasn't really so much why she was asking," he pointed out.

Didn't I instantly feel like the jerk. Maybe I've just been gone too long at the Seawall, where I didn't have to think about how not to hurt anypony's feelings. It should have been easier to see, but I didn't consider her perspective instead of my own - that it's a smack in the face, when somepony shoots you down based on what seems like rejecting an aspect of you or something you like. There's a more elegant way to turn down a date, as my mother once explained to me back when I was in high school. Make it about yourself and why you can't say yes right then, not about pointing out the reasons they gave you to say no. Don't make it their fault.

I think my mom felt the need to give me such advice because she was hoping I'd turn out more girly than I did, more like her. I think she had dresses and finding a perfect stallion and giving her a couple grandkids in mind for what she'd have preferred to see me do with my life. Of course, then after I was done with school I went and enlisted in the army on a contract to go to flight scout training, which kind of smashed that hope into the ground (ironic for a flier, right?). I think she forgave me, though, because at least I followed her advice when I explained why. I told her it wasn't anything to do with her or rejecting those things she wanted, it was about me and my life and this just seemed like something I'd enjoy. It was easy to say that. It was true, after all, so I didn't really have to think much about it. Anyway, our relationship wasn't damaged by it. She's still my mom and I'm still her kid. I guess it'll always be that way. It takes a whole lot to break that.

I never did use that tactic for handling being asked for a date, though, because back in school I never got asked out. Well, alright, except for one time, when a dorky earth pony with acne and a slightly greasy mane and bad fetlocks asked me in a mumbling voice while I was at my locker if I would go to some dance or something (dances are another thing I don't do, by the way, I've never been to one). I don't think that counts, since technically I never answered one way or another. It caught me off-guard and I didn't know what to say, so I pretended not to hear over the noise in the hallway. I grabbed my stuff, then I shut my locker door and just walked away as quickly as I could without responding. He didn't try again.

I feel bad about it. I always have. It was a callous thing to do, I know, and looking back at it he was a lot braver for finding it inside himself to ask than I was for running away. But the truth is that it also taught me a lot about myself.

I learned I didn't want to be asked out.

I didn't ask for the attention. I never have. All I've wanted is to be left alone.

Maybe if I'm honest about it, I resent being asked out today, too, just as much as I did back then. Maybe that's why I shot it down so thoughtlessly, because I hate having to think about how to respond nicely. It feels like I'm playing a game when I try to maneuver words like that. It feels like I'm lying. It's a mask that's not me and I don't like feeling as if I'm being put in the position of not having a choice but to wear it. The truth is usually pretty blunt, not finely pointed and sparing of our feelings, and my instinct has always been to just say it, not find an angle on it. What we want doesn't change what is. That's kind of just common sense, isn't it?

But still, that wasn't fair to Starry Night, because it's not her fault. When I put myself in her horseshoes, I can understand her disappointment. I can understand how it must feel to be brushed away without any thought of being polite. Not that I would have said yes, but I could have said no in a different way. It tears me in two, between saying what comes naturally to me or what's easier on them, and that unpleasant feeling of being torn is just another reason why it's easier to be alone.

I'm making myself miserable. Enough of that for today.

Comments

[Benprodemo]

Well, that was unexpected...
I didn't think the main character was a mare.
Not too supprised, but I certainly didn't see it coming easily enough.....

[PaulAsaran]

Aha! At last, I know that Sunburst is, in fact, a she. Thank you for that. Don't judge me, it's a name without a gender.

Being a bit of an isolationist myself, it's pretty easy for me to associate with Sunburst. At the same time, I also get it for the poor guy she ignored in school, because that was once me as well.

I won't go through my spiel about this not feeling like a journal, but I will point out that you did the right thing with the dialogue. It's hard – if not impossible – to justify whole conversations written in a journal, and you've done a good job of avoiding that. At the same time, you took one line, a line that stood out for Sunburst, and placed it in there. That feels like journal material to me.